


Games

by chaos_monkey



Series: Shared Interests [2]
Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Deepthroating, Desperation Play, Dom!Jones, Dom/sub Play, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Jones is still a sexy jerk, M/M, Male Slash, Non-Canon Relationship, Omorashi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Role Reversal, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Watersports, Wet & Messy, Wetting, but in a good way, sub!Barnaby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-10 14:32:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18662305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_monkey/pseuds/chaos_monkey
Summary: Sequel to Surprises, inspired by a comment about wanting more dom!Ben / sub!Barnaby (you know who you are ;) ) that made me wonder just what else they would get up to.Or in other words, a little collection of short-ish chapters showcasing a small variety of kink between Barnaby and Jones.More tags to be added to the work as I go, and each chapter will note which specific tags apply (because they will generally be different for each one and because yeah there will be pee again).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please do leave a note if you enjoy! Comments make me all warm and tingly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Specific content tags: Deepthroating, face-fucking, wet & messy

Jones kicked the front door to his flat closed behind him and shoved Barnaby up against the wall, covering the DCI’s mouth with his in a hard kiss. Barnaby whimpered as Jones pressed the length of his body up against him, keeping him pinned to the wall. Only once he had Barnaby panting did Jones pull back, catching Barnaby’s bottom lip between his teeth as he did, just hard enough to hurt.

“You enjoyed yourself today, didn't you?” Jones growled. “Giving me all those little jobs to do for you… just dying for me to put you in your place tonight, weren’t you?” Barnaby just gazed back at him, expectant, still panting. “Get on your knees, _inspector._ Time for you to do a little work around here.”

The moment Jones let up from pinning him against the wall, Barnaby slid down to his knees, tongue wetting his lips as he deftly unbuckled Jones’ belt and opened his fly. Looking down, Jones let out an appreciative, groaning sigh as Barnaby pulled out his already mostly-hard prick and sucked it into his mouth with an eager little whine in the back of his throat, sliding his other hand around the back of Jones’ thigh. Jones just took in the view for a moment, enjoying the feeling of Barnaby’s hot, wet mouth and tongue working up and down his hard length; then he shrugged out of his suit jacket, reaching over to hang it up while Barnaby kept sucking his cock, moving over _just_ enough that the inspector had to awkwardly shuffle to the side on his knees in order to keep going.

Jones looked down again with a smile, biting at his lower lip as he slowly undid his tie, tossed it onto the shelf, and opened the first few buttons of his shirt with a sigh of relief. The only thing that felt better than ridding himself of the constricting outfit after a long day was doing it with his cock down his DCI’s throat. Barnaby, on the other hand, wasn’t going to get any such relief just yet. He hadn’t undone his collar or even loosened his tie in the car on the way home - he knew better than that, knew he had to wait for Jones to decide when and how he got to undress after a day like today.

It had become something of a game between them, when they weren’t currently on a case and were just catching up on officework like they had been this week. Barnaby would inevitably get in a mood to push, and start purposely giving Jones any number of minor, inconsequential little jobs during the day that they both knew he could just as easily have taken care of himself, that he normally would do himself. Print something out, look something up, fetch some old files, whatever. Jones completed every single task without a word of complaint, ever the dutiful sergeant, both of them knowing that he was going to make Barnaby pay for it that night.

Entirely aside from that, Jones also just enjoyed having Barnaby fully clothed like this. Loved watching him reduced from his usual cool and collected professionalism to a panting, whimpering mess before he even undressed. At the moment though, Barnaby was still far too composed for Jones’ liking, even with his mouth wide open and full of cock.

“No more hands tonight unless I tell you,” Jones said as he ran his own hand through Barnaby’s hair. The DCI promptly let go of Jones’ shaft and moved both hands to his own thighs. “Mmmm… that’s better.”

Barnaby kept sucking without missing a beat, and he was definitely getting a little sloppier on Jones’ cock now that he was no longer able to work against his hand. It was a _bit_ better… but still not good enough.

One hand already holding the back of Barnaby’s head, Jones leaned forward slightly and put his other hand to the wall, then shoved his cock into the back of Barnaby’s throat with a groan until the DCI choked around his mouthful of dick. Jones pulled back just enough to let Barnaby catch his breath, coughing and spluttering, then thrust back into his mouth, a little slower this time.

“Come on, honey… I _know_ you can do better than that,” Jones murmured, and a moment later he felt Barnaby’s throat open up for him, heard him breathing heavily through his nose instead. Jones stilled his hips so Barnaby could take over again, letting up the pressure of his hand a little and groaning as his cock slid into Barnaby’s throat and back out. “Ahhh yeah, there we go… that's more like it… fuck, that's so good.”

Jones had been spending the last few months they’d been together working out all the subtle little nuances of what Barnaby liked most, what his DCI was and wasn’t into, and he had gotten a pretty good handle on it by now. Barnaby loved being manhandled, pushed around, commanded; and he _really_ got off on an interesting little mix of humiliation and praise, as Jones had discovered entirely by accident their very first time together, out in the woods. Since then, he’d ascertained that Barnaby didn’t much like the derogatory names or the put-downs - which was fine with Jones; he’d never particularly cared for that either, though he’d had other partners in the past who did - but tell the inspector what a gorgeous, filthy mess he was, call him _honey_ or _sweetheart_ or, occasionally, _pet,_ and he was putty in your hands.

And so help him, that combination of dirty and sweet apparently really did it for Jones, too.

After letting Barnaby deepthroat him in and out for a little while, telling him how he good he was at sucking cock in a few different ways and groaning with pleasure at the extra enthusiasm he elicited with those remarks, Jones pulled back a bit and then started thrusting again, fucking Barnaby’s mouth, pulling out far enough for him to take in a gasping breath every few strokes or so. He kept watch for the three taps to his leg that would signal their nonverbal safeword, but the inspector’s hands never even twitched up from his own legs.

Jones could feel Barnaby drooling thickened saliva around his dick, hear the wetly obscene slurping sounds as he thrust in and out, and he groaned again, deep in his chest. He’d gotten so pent up over the course of the day from Barnaby’s cheeky little power foreplay, this was getting him close much faster than he'd intended.

Fisting his hand in Barnaby’s hair, Jones yanked the DCI’s head back off his cock with a sloppy wet pop and tilted it back, looking down at him kneeling on the front door mat with his hands still resting obediently on his thighs.

Oh yeah. This was _much_ better.

Barnaby was flushed and panting hard, mouth still open and hair disheveled by Jones’ fingers, his eyes watery and more than a little glassy with lust. He’d drooled all down his chin and there was a thick string of spit, and almost certainly precome, running from his lower lip to the head of Jones’ cock. For a moment, Jones was tempted to just go ahead and come like this. It sure wouldn’t take long, and it would look so good… pumping his own cock and watching his come shoot into Barnaby’s open, waiting mouth, spilling over those red and spit-slick lips, dripping down his chin and onto his chest… but no, not tonight. He wasn't ready for it to be over so soon.

With a smirk, Jones moved his hand along Barnaby’s jaw, cupping his chin. He ran his thumb over the inspector’s prettily swollen bottom lip, breaking the thread of saliva, then slipped the digit into Barnaby’s mouth for him to suck it off.

“On your feet,” Jones ordered, taking a small step back to give him room. Barnaby stood up, still breathing hard, and Jones slid his other hand down to the inspector’s crotch, finding him rock hard as he’d expected he would. “Mmm… you really _do_ just love sucking my dick, don’t you, sweetheart?” he asked, closing his fingers around Barnaby’s erection through his clothing and squeezing gently.

Barnaby’s hips twitched forwards and he nodded, whimpering. Jones looked him over, a smile tugging at his lips. There were wet streaks of drool all over Barnaby’s white shirt and dark tie, and Jones’ smile widened further as he ran his thumb back and forth over the head of his DCI’s cock, finding the slippery wet spot where Barnaby’s precome had already oozed through his pants _and_ trousers.

“Jesus, look at you… _such_ a fucking mess,” Jones said, letting approval warm his voice, and covered Barnaby’s mouth with his in a deep kiss, tasting himself on his DCI’s tongue. At the same time, Jones released Barnaby’s cock and instead gripped his own shaft at the base, then ran his hand up the full length of his prick, wiping off the saliva and squeezing a bit of remaining precome out onto his fingers. Breaking the kiss, Jones raised his hand up to Barnaby’s mouth and watched him lick it clean.

“Since you can’t even keep your clothes tidy, I guess you may as well just get rid of them,” Jones continued once Barnaby was done, reaching down to tuck himself away and do his fly back up again, though he didn’t bother with his belt. “Strip and get the lube. You have two minutes, and then I expect to see you on your hands and knees on the couch, opening yourself up with your fingers for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Barnaby said with a shiver. His voice was eager, still rough from having had his throat thoroughly fucked. Jones grinned and gave him another kiss before letting him go.

Two minutes later, or near enough, Jones was lounging back on his couch with a pleased smirk on his face, unbuttoning his shirt but otherwise leaving it on as he watched Barnaby do as he’d been told. The inspector was stark naked on all fours next to him, awkwardly reaching back and fingering himself, panting with his mouth open and brow furrowed in a mix of concentration, frustration, and arousal, his cock still hard and jutting forward between his legs.

Opening his fly again, Jones pushed his pants down with one hand and pulled his dick out with the other, stroking himself lazily.

“When you’ve got that lovely little arsehole of yours wet and ready for me, you’re gonna sit on my lap and ride my cock. And if you’re good enough, I'll even let you come on me,” Jones told him, and Barnaby moaned, shuddering, twisting around to shove his fingers even deeper up his own arse.

Jones grinned again and reached for the lube and a condom to get himself ready too, already picturing Barnaby bouncing frantically on his cock, begging and howling as he came all over Jones' bare stomach.

_After_ Jones made him work for it, of course.

This was going to be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Specific content tags: Sex toys, exhibitionism (I think?)

Jones glanced again at the time and cleared his throat, stifling a smirk. He looked over at Barnaby, who was still deeply engrossed in his work.

“It’s almost five, sir,” Jones prompted.

“Hmm?”

“The meeting today, remember? At five? It’s time to get ready,” he said, pointedly meeting Barnaby’s eyes as the DCI turned towards him.

Barnaby didn’t catch on immediately, and Jones raised his eyebrows slightly, forcing himself not to grin as he watched Barnaby’s eyes widen, dawning realization crossing his face. He gave no other sign though, controlling himself well.

“Oh right,” he said, shutting down his computer. Then, almost as an afterthought, added, “Actually, I’ll meet you there in a minute, Jones.”

Jones didn’t miss the way Barnaby patted once at his suit jacket over the inside pocket as he headed toward the men’s room.

Shutting down his own computer, Jones checked he had everything he needed in his own pockets and made his way to the meeting room. He was one of the first to arrive, and chose a seat towards the back of the long table, saving a place for his DCI by dropping his notebook and pen in front of the chair next to him, one spot closer to the front of the room.

Jones nodded to his colleagues as they filtered into the room over the next few minutes, making small talk as they all waited for the meeting to start. It was one of those terribly boring ones, about some largely unimportant bureaucratic nonsense or other, a full hour long and scheduled at the very end of the day when everyone just wanted to go home.

It was perfect.

Barnaby walked in at a few minutes to five, heading to the back and taking the seat Jones had saved for him.

“Cutting it close, there, sir,” Jones commented as he took back his notebook and pen, getting ready to take notes in case something important was actually mentioned over the next hour.

“I’m not late if it hasn’t started yet,” Barnaby answered mildly, meeting Jones’ eyes with a tiny, almost imperceptible nod before leaning back in his chair and turning towards the front of the room as the speaker stood up to thank them all for coming, as though any of them would be here by choice.

Jones glanced around the room, listening with half an ear, noting that, as he’d intended, his seat left him able to keep an eye on Barnaby while looking like he was paying attention to the speaker at the front. There were maybe fifteen or twenty-odd people at the meeting, all of them looking bored out of their minds already and trying to pretend they weren’t. At least half the room probably knew, or suspected anyway, that he and his DCI were… involved. Though of course none of them would have any clue as to the exact nature that involvement took.

And Jones was _definitely_ the only one who knew that Barnaby was sitting next to him with a buttplug up his arse.

Jones finally allowed himself a small smile at that thought as he casually slipped a hand into the pocket of his trousers. With the two of them not on a case, and not even next in line for a new one, today’s meeting had been the perfect opportunity to try out a little… activity that Barnaby had expressed an interest in. That morning, while the inspector was showering, Jones had left the toy out on the bed in its little bag, along with a fresh, single-use bottle of lube, a pair of tight pants and loose trousers that he knew would hide Barnaby’s erection the best, and a note saying _When I tell you to get ready._ Barnaby had said nothing, only joined him downstairs a short time later, wearing the trousers and a quiet smile, the small, oddly shaped lump in his suit jacket easily missed unless you were looking for it.

This particular plug was Barnaby’s favourite, as Jones well knew; small enough to stay comfortable for extended periods of time but big enough he definitely knew it was there. And of course, there was the remote that controlled the vibration level, the one Jones was currently, carefully running his fingers over in his pocket. They had played with the toy more than enough to be confident that it was completely inaudible on all but the highest setting, and Jones wouldn’t be using that one today anyway.

He also knew _exactly_ what each setting did to Barnaby. While it was off, like now, he’d have a constant mild hard on. Level one moved him up to a full erection. Level two, and he started leaking precome within a few minutes. Level three, he started to squirm. Level four got him panting, whimpering, and twitching, and by level five, he’d be writhing and pleading, begging to come, to be fucked, do anything Jones wanted.

Today, Jones was going to see how long Barnaby could take level three  _without_ squirming before the meeting was over. Up until now, they’d only ever played with it at home, but Barnaby apparently had a quiet little exhibitionist streak and wanted to try using it while in public. Jones was _more_ than happy to indulge that desire, already getting a thrill out of being the only one there, besides Barnaby himself, who knew exactly what was going on in the DCI’s trousers.

Settling into his seat, notepad at the ready, Jones plastered an attentive look on his face as the speaker droned on at the front of the room. He gave Barnaby some time to get used to the toy, since he had only just put it in right before the meeting started.

Maybe twenty minutes into the meeting, Jones carefully thumbed the remote on to the first level. A slight twitch in his jaw was Barnaby’s only outward reaction, and Jones left it on for just a couple of minutes before turning it off again.

Another five or ten minutes later, about halfway through the meeting, he turned it on to level one again, this time leaving it on. After a short time, Barnaby shifted in his seat; then actually leaned forward, into a position Jones knew damn well would be _increasing_ the stimulation, and he briefly flicked the remote up to level two and then back down again, just letting Barnaby know he’d noticed and appreciated the move.

Before long, Jones brought Barnaby up to the second level again, leaving it run. The DCI casually leaned back in his chair again after a moment, and Jones could feel himself stirring at the knowledge that not only would Barnaby be completely hard, he’d also be slowly oozing precome into his pants by now as well. Jones could see the tension growing in the line of Barnaby’s jaw; in his neck and in the way he was holding himself.

Jones finally turned the plug up to the third level, keeping a close eye on Barnaby’s hand where it rested on the table. He could see the early, telltale signs now; the perspiration just starting to sheen the inspector’s skin, the flush beginning to creep up his neck just above his collar, his throat moving as he swallowed hard. Jones was starting to feel a little too warm himself, even more turned on than he’d expected to be, glad that the table was hiding his lap above trousers that were starting to feel a bit tight.

The second Barnaby started soundlessly tapping his middle finger on the table in their innocuous-looking signal, Jones thumbed the remote back down to level two, leaving it there briefly to ease him off before switching it down to the first level, and then finally shutting it off again completely.

Still looking attentively in the general direction of the front of the table, Jones allowed himself another small smile and spent the rest of the meeting considering how best to reward the inspector for being so good. Barnaby had lasted even longer than he’d expected.

By the time they got up to leave for the evening, Jones had decided that if the DCI could take the plug a little longer - and he was all but certain Barnaby could - he'd turn it up again when they got home and suck Barnaby off while the toy was still buzzing happily against his prostate. He’d even give Barnaby a choice of how _he_ was going to get off, too; whether the DCI wanted to be fucked, suck Jones off, or just watch him come with his own hand.

Oh yes. One way or another, he was going to make Barnaby _very_ happy tonight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't even know if that counts as exhibitionism, but I have no idea what else it would fall under :P


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Specific content tags: Watersports, shower sex, orgasm delay/denial, aftercare
> 
> Also rather gratuitously explicit.

Barnaby was staring out through the lightly rain-spattered window without really seeing the darkened landscape as it passed by, his mind lost in idle contemplation as Jones drove them home after a day out on the road. At this point, he’d all but moved in to the sergeant’s flat, and maybe it was a  _ little  _ quick, given that they’d barely been together six months… but it honestly felt like much longer than that. One advantage to working so closely together for so long before they’d actually started seeing each other was that they already knew each other far better than most people did six months into a relationship. They had already seen and dealt with each other at their very worst, too many times to count; when they were tired and overworked, stressed as hell, dealing with the emotional strain of the more difficult cases  _ and  _ their aftermath. Living together was a walk in the park by comparison. 

Barnaby was really only keeping his own address for appearances… such as they were. Their relationship was probably the worst-kept secret in the precinct by now, but it wasn't particularly unusual; liaisons between colleagues were far from unheard of. And since Jones had already been next in line for promotion up to DI for a while, he was really more of Barnaby’s partner than subordinate at this point anyway. So long as they kept it  _ technically  _ unofficial and didn’t let it affect their work, nobody really cared that they were partners in their private life as well.

“Man… I  _ really  _ need to piss,” Jones commented from the driver’s seat, his tone so casually conversational that it took a second before Barnaby fully processed the words. When he did, his breath caught briefly in his throat, a small thrill of arousal spiking through his belly as he turned to look at Jones. The sergeant still had his eyes on the road, but the tiniest smile was playing around the corners of his lips and he’d slipped one hand down to tug his seatbelt a little looser across his hips. 

“Do you -” It came out as a croak and Barnaby cleared his throat. “Do you want to stop?” he asked, striving for nonchalant and failing completely as his gaze flickered up and down between Jones’ face and the hand near his crotch, unsure which he’d rather watch at the moment. 

Jones’ smile got just a hair more visible. 

“I don’t think there’s really anywhere we  _ can  _ stop now… I’ll have to hold it till we get home.” 

That was a blatant lie, given that they were still out in the middle of nowhere and it was full dark out. Barnaby bit down on a grin and played along. 

“Will you be all right to wait?”

“Yeah, we’re not that far away now… But -” Jones made a little show of squirming slightly, slipping his thumb under his waistband to tug at it, and heat spiked through Barnaby’s center again. “- I could maybe use a little help, you know, keeping my mind off it,” he continued. 

Biting his lip, Barnaby shifted a little in his seat and reached over, brushing Jones’ hand with his as he undid the sergeant’s fly. As it happened, Jones wasn’t wearing a belt today, so it was only a matter of seconds before Barnaby slipped his hand into Jones’ pants and wrapped his fingers around his partner’s dick. Jones was half-hard already, possibly from holding it, possibly from arousal. Most likely from both… he enjoyed these games just as much as Barnaby did.

Barnaby’s breath quickened as he squeezed lightly, and Jones let out a soft groan, slouching down slightly in his seat and opening his legs a little wider before pushing the front of his trousers down a bit so Barnaby could pull him out. As Jones moved his hand back to the wheel, Barnaby started stroking him slowly, desire burning quietly but insistently like a bed of embers in his gut as he felt Jones filling, stiffening further in his hand. 

Okay, so this wasn’t exactly the  _ safest  _ way to drive, but the roads were quiet, Jones was a good driver, and anyway the man had the self-control of the fucking gods when it came to sex. Besides, Barnaby wasn’t trying to get him off, he reasoned, just keep him hard until they got home to do… whatever it was Jones had in mind for tonight. 

No longer able to help the grin that was spreading across his face, Barnaby let go for a moment, bringing his hand to his mouth to lick a broad stripe of spit up his own palm before returning his hand to Jones’ cock. He felt the briefest flush of embarrassment as he realized he was already breathing faster than the sergeant, even though he wasn’t the one getting the handjob. 

But  _ fuck,  _ it got him going, this, knowing Jones was full up, holding it for him… Barnaby had known he had a… a  _ thing  _ for a long time, but he’d never had a chance to act on it much in the past, except by himself, of course. He was usually too shy to bring it up, and though he’d had a couple partners who had given it a go for his sake, he had never been with anyone who was into it the way he was. Until now, that is. It was just icing on the cake that Jones  _ also  _ happened to piss like a fucking racehorse, and seemingly had the bladder capacity to match. Shivering with anticipation, Barnaby adjusted his own erection more comfortably in his trousers, mind wandering to the things they might end up doing before long as he settled in for the rest of the drive home. 

Less than half an hour later, Barnaby was shoved up against the steamy glass wall of the shower with Jones’ tongue first on his cock and then in his mouth.

His prick was almost painfully hard, throbbing where it was now nestled up in the hollow at the front of the sergeant’s hip. Barnaby moaned, thrusting against Jones without thinking as the hot water ran over them, and Jones gasped into his mouth, hand moving down to grip his own cock. 

_ “Christ,  _ I’ve gotta go,” Jones said with a panting sort of laugh, taking a small step back as he reached up to aim the showerhead onto the wall behind him.

_ “Yes,  _ fuck, please, do it,” Barnaby whimpered, his hand twitching towards his groin and a shiver running through him that had absolutely nothing to do with the sudden absence of hot water. “Can I?..”

Jones grinned at him, that arrogant and so unfairly sexy grin he got when he knew  _ exactly  _ how turned on Barnaby was because of him. 

“Yeah, go ahead, sweetheart… Dirty little minx, let me see you touch yourself while I piss on you. But don’t you  _ dare  _ come, is that understood?”

Barnaby nodded, shuddering, and squeezed his cock for relief as he waited, panting already. This moment of anticipation, the buildup, was almost as much of a turn on as the feeling when Jones finally let go on him, and Barnaby never knew where he wanted to look more, his gaze shifting up and down as he tried to take it all in at once. The sergeant’s stance as he relaxed; his dick, semi-erect, held in a loose grip; his mouth, slightly open in a small smile as his head tilted back and his eyes dropped shut for a moment. 

“Ahh yeah… here it comes,” Jones said, his voice almost a sigh.

Barnaby’s eyes flew downwards just in time to see the first spurts leave Jones’ cock; spurts that rapidly became a steady stream, arcing up as his piss started gushing out in force. 

Jones let out a deep groan, and Barnaby’s knees turned to water. His hand tightened on his own achingly hard dick as he started stroking, a long moan escaping his lips as Jones’ piss splashed onto his belly and ran down him to the floor, just as hot on his skin as the water from the shower had been a moment ago. Panting moans were leaving him with every quick breath in and out, and part of him wanted to look back up and see the relief he knew would be on Jones’ face at finally letting go, but he just couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Then Jones aimed a little lower so that he was pissing right on Barnaby’s throbbing cock, the stream hitting with enough pressure that Barnaby shuddered and let out a little sobbing whimper as he suddenly had to hold himself off from coming. Jones had barely fucking  _ started,  _ but he was already shaking with the effort of controlling himself and not just exploding into the absolute  _ torrent  _ of piss that was rushing over him, hot and wet over his dick and his hand as it jerked spastically along his shaft.

“Sir… sir,  _ please,  _ can I come, I need to -” he begged, breath catching in another sob.

“I said no,” Jones replied in a warning tone, and Barnaby let out a shivering wail and closed his eyes briefly, forcing his own hand to stop moving and just squeeze the base of his shaft in a desperate bid to stop his imminent orgasm in its tracks. It worked, barely, and then it was all Barnaby could do to stand there, quivering and whimpering, his legs shaking, still holding his own prick in a deathgrip as he watched Jones' piss pouring over it, pouring over him. 

“That’s better, pet…  _ fuck,  _ you look so good like this… Once I’ve finished, once I’m empty… I am going to fuck you  _ so  _ hard… gonna fill that tight arse with my come," Jones continued in a voice like honey over gravel, pausing to draw in the occasional ragged breath as he spoke, hand ever so slowly stroking up and down the length of his stiffening, still-pissing cock. With a desperate whine in the back of his throat, Barnaby squeezed himself hard enough to hurt so that he wouldn’t just come right then. “And  _ then  _ you can come… you can come on my cock while I finish emptying myself inside you.” 

Barnaby shuddered again, moaning, glad he was already leaning on the wall of the shower or he might’ve collapsed. Jones was panting by now too, his stream finally dwindling to a trickle, and Barnaby groaned as he watched the muscles in the sergeant’s stomach tighten to force a few last spurts of piss out of his stiff cock. Barnaby was finally able to drag his eyes back up to meet Jones’, their colour a barely visible pale ring around pupils blown wide with desire. He barely had time to see Jones reaching up to grab the lube they’d started keeping in the shower before the sergeant slammed up against him, hot mouth finding his in a bruisingly hard kiss. Barnaby’s hand was still on his dick, trapped between them, and as he wrenched it free Jones thrust sharply against him, grinding them both together and making Barnaby gasp into the mouth that covered his own. 

“Turn around. Hands on the wall,” Jones ordered, and Barnaby did, his cock twitching, his nuts aching, and his mind blurry with the need for release. They didn’t need condoms anymore unless it was to make clean up easier, which really wasn’t an issue in the shower anyway, and Barnaby was trembling with anticipation as he listened to the almost obscene sounds of Jones coating his prick and his hand with plenty of lube. 

Barnaby whimpered when he felt Jones’ hand spread his arse cheeks, fingers running slick across his hole, then cried out when Jones shoved two of those fingers inside him. Arching his back, Barnaby bucked his hips back into the touch, spreading his legs as wide as he could in the confines of the shower as Jones finger-fucked him hard.

“Oh god, please, fuck me, sir…  _ please  _ fuck me, I need it,” he finally begged, barely coherent, nearly mindless with wanting to feel Jones inside him,  _ now. _

Jones growled wordlessly, a pure animalistic sound, and pinned Barnaby’s wrists to the wall of the shower with one hand. Barnaby whimpered as he felt Jones’ fingers slip back out of his arsehole, to be almost immediately replaced by the blunt pressure of Jones’ cockhead instead, and he cried out again from the pleasure-pain burn as he was breached, shuddering as Jones pressed into him, that thick, hard cock stretching him open, filling him up in a way fingers never could as it slid inside him inch by inch.

Barnaby let his forehead fall onto the wall of the shower between his elbows, his wrists still pinned above his head. Jones’ other hand moved over to grip Barnaby’s hip as he started thrusting, burying himself deep in Barnaby’s arse with a grunt on every stroke. Incapable of words and nearly sobbing with need, Barnaby gasped and moaned, looking down at his own cock. He was leaking precome, prick so hard that it hurt and bouncing with each jolt as Jones hammered into him from behind, again and again, agonizingly grazing over his prostate.

Then Jones shifted slightly, dropping Barnaby’s wrists lower against the wall and pulling Barnaby’s hips back a little further with him, and Barnaby  _ howled  _ as Jones’ next thrust hit his prostate dead on, and then the next, and the next, again and again.

“Oh fuck yes, that’s it, I’m gonna fill you up, come on my cock, come for me, love, fucking  _ scream  _ for me, I know you want to, say my  _ fucking  _ name,” Jones ground out behind him, panting, and Barnaby did scream, his orgasm building, building, building, white hot inside him, his hands clenching uselessly into fists above his head as Jones fucked into him faster and harder.

“Oh god oh god, sir,  _ Ben,  _ please, sir,  _ fuck,  _ I - ahhhh - Ben -  _ Ben  _ -” and then he did explode, the name tearing from his throat, his arse clenching around Jones’ cock and his own cock spraying ribbons of come down over the glass wall and the floor of the shower. 

Jones kept driving into him through his orgasm, thrusts getting jerkier, and Barnaby was still clenching and sobbing with release when he felt Jones curl around his back and sink sharp teeth into his shoulder with a harsh, guttural  _ growl,  _ convulsing against him. Jones’ cock throbbed inside him, pulsing as he spent deep in Barnaby’s arse, and Barnaby could swear he felt the spurting pressure of Jones’ come painting his insides with heat. 

Barnaby shook as his legs tried to buckle under him. His head was fuzzy and he was still gasping, trembling with aftershocks, only vaguely aware of Jones letting his wrists free, pulling out as he gently helped Barnaby stand upright and turn around again so he was leaning back on the shower wall. 

Shivering, his skin pebbled in goosebumps, Barnaby wasn’t quite able to process the contrast of the burning, post-orgasm heat inside him against the chill of his wet, cold skin and the smooth glass behind him. And then the heat of the shower hit him and Jones’ arms wrapped around him, body warm and solid against him as he trembled, and Barnaby slowly, slowly came back to himself again as he panted into his partner’s neck. 

His head still swimming a bit, the mild confusion turned into mild euphoria instead as the adrenaline rush gradually faded. Barnaby giggled quietly against Jones’ shoulder when he felt Jones’ come start to leak out of him, tickling as it ran down the over-sensitive skin of his thigh. He only rarely came hands-free like that, but when he did… he ended up like this every time, blissed-out and giddy, grinning like an idiot, a limp rag in Jones’ arms. He felt the sergeant pull back slightly to meet his eyes with a smile.

“Well, that was intense,” Jones murmured, placing a gentle kiss on Barnaby’s lips.

Barnaby just sighed happily in response, nuzzling back into Jones’ shoulder and closing his eyes once more, luxuriating in the afterglow and the heat of the water pouring down his body. Jones chuckled, kissing the side of his neck, then shifted them around so that Barnaby was getting most of the water spray. 

A moment later, Jones started moving him around with gentle hands, soaping him up all over with a soft washcloth and then getting him rinsed off again. Barnaby hummed with contentment as Jones washed them both, still a little woozy and more than happy to let him take care of everything for the moment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Specific content tags: Omorashi, desperation play, wetting

“Just need to fill up,” Barnaby said, pulling in to the petrol station. He had spent most of the day on the road with his new sergeant, and the tank was getting a bit low. Jones had been working in the office all day, getting his own DS settled in on his first day in Causton, and Barnaby had picked him up on the way home.

“I can go in and pay,” Jones offered, getting out too. “Need anything while I’m in there?”

“Nothing I can think of,” Barnaby answered, passing over some cash and stifling a yawn as he watched the numbers ticking up on the pump.

There were only a few other patrons and it wasn’t a long wait before Jones re-joined him in the car. The new DI had a bottle of water in his hand, and offered it to Barnaby as he started the car and buckled up again.

“I thought you seemed a little thirsty,” Jones said with a shrug in response to Barnaby’s questioning look, his gaze tracking briefly down Barnaby’s body and back up again with a meaningful smile and his eyebrows raised in invitation.

Barnaby considered for a moment. Jones was apparently in the mood to watch him squirm tonight, but _starting_ this was always an offer, never an order. Barnaby wasn’t always up for it; if he wasn’t in the right headspace, it was just… stressful, rather than enjoyable. If he accepted that offer though… then it became an entirely different story. _Then_ he was expected to follow orders. A smile spread slowly across Barnaby’s face as he thought about that, and before pulling out of the lot, he met Jones’ eyes and held a hand out for the water. Taking a long drink, he set the bottle in the cupholder between the seats before pulling back onto the road towards home with a tingle of anticipation in his groin.

He was up for it tonight.

He actually was pretty thirsty, as it turned out, and the water bottle was already empty by the time they got home a quarter of an hour later. Without any urging, Barnaby immediately got himself a large glass of water when they got in, and managed to empty it several times over the course of the evening as the two of them got supper ready, ate, and cleared up after. Jones didn’t comment on it, but Barnaby didn't miss the pleased glances as he drained and refilled the glass, the approval making him glow while they chatted about their respective days, Jones’ new sergeant, and Barnaby’s current case. After supper they settled in on the couch with a movie, and Barnaby snuggled in next to Jones, the DI’s arm around his shoulder.

By about halfway through the movie, Barnaby was _really_ feeling it. He already hadn’t gone to the loo since stopping for lunch with his sergeant, and had managed to down quite a lot of water in a fairly short time since stopping for petrol with Jones on the way home.

As the pressure in his midsection grew, Barnaby couldn’t help squirming more and more, his belt digging uncomfortably into his stomach. He finally sat up straighter, fidgeting and shifting on the couch as he tried to find a position that would relieve some of the pressure on his bladder, determined not to complain. Jones said nothing through it all, just rested a hand on Barnaby’s thigh as he watched the movie.

Before much longer, though, Barnaby was bouncing his other leg up and down to try and let off some tension. He was no longer making any pretense at trying to follow the film, unable to think of anything besides how badly he needed to pee, telling himself it wasn't _that_ bad, he could wait a little longer, and believing it less with each passing minute. He really _wasn’t_ certain how much longer he could hold it; not until the end of the movie, that was for sure. He couldn't help the small whimper that escaped him just at the thought of waiting that much longer for relief, his hands twitching into fists on his lap, knowing he wasn't allowed to touch himself to help hold it. Jones stroked his thigh soothingly.

“Do you need something, love?”

“I _really_ need to go,” Barnaby answered, a small hitch in his voice, and finally saying it aloud somehow made it suddenly even _more_ urgent.

Jones’ hand slid further up Barnaby’s thigh, fingers curling around his dick through his trousers. Barnaby let out a soft moan, the touch making things better and worse at the same time. He was half hard, both from desperately needing to pee and from being aroused by that need, by the knowledge that Jones was enjoying Barnaby squirming next to him as he tried to hold it as long as he could.

“But the movie’s not over yet,” Jones said mildly.

Barnaby looked over at him, pleading, but Jones wasn’t looking at him.

“I _can’t_ …” His voice came out in a whine, and a small tremor ran through him as he squirmed in place again, starting to rock back and forth slightly in his seat.

“You _really_ can't even make it to the end?” Jones asked, finally meeting Barnaby’s eyes, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Those slender, strong fingers were still caressing, squeezing Barnaby’s cock as his own hands gripped his trousers, clenching and releasing.

Barnaby shook his head.

“No, sir… I - _please,_ please let me go,” he begged, whimpering.

Jones’ smile grew into a smirk and he turned off the TV with an affected sigh, dropping the remote back onto the coffee table.

“Come with me, then,” Jones said, standing up and making no effort to hide the blatant hard-on in his suit trousers.

Barnaby nearly leapt to his feet, getting a brief respite from the throbbing in his bladder as the pressure of his belt lessened. His relief was short-lived, though, as gravity did its thing and his need grew even more urgent as he followed Jones down the hallway.

But then Jones kept walking towards the bedroom, right past the bathroom door.

Barnaby stopped at the doorway, confused, fidgeting in place, squeezing his thighs together and slipping a thumb under his waistband, tugging at it to try and alleviate the pressure just a little as his desperation mounted. They hadn’t done this _that_ often, but every other time they had, Jones had taken Barnaby into the bathroom and made him wet himself, fully clothed, right there in the middle of the floor, pulling out his cock and stroking himself as he watched. Then he either kept going until he came all over Barnaby’s piss-soaked trousers, sucking him off in the shower after; or just bent Barnaby over and fucked him, still standing in his own puddle, pumping Barnaby’s wet cock with one hand until they both came.

Did he not want to watch this time, or… or… surely he didn't think Barnaby could wait much longer? Neither possibility made sense.

Jones paused in the bedroom doorway and looked back with a raised eyebrow, almost as if he knew _exactly_ what was going through Barnaby's mind.

“I don't want to repeat myself, Barnaby.”

The DCI swallowed hard. He probably _did_ know.

“Yes, sir,” he said, and followed Jones into the bedroom.

Jones pointed at the bed.

“Strip and lie on your back.”

Barnaby did so, stripping as fast as he could while trying to avoid standing up completely straight, letting out a groan of relief when he finally undid his trousers. He was certain it wasn’t his imagination that his lower belly was visibly distended, or that he could feel the sloshing in his bladder when he moved.

Jones watched him the whole time with a smirk, undressing more slowly while his eyes bored into Barnaby. At this point, Barnaby was seriously starting to consider that he would have to use his safeword very shortly, because there was no way in hell he’d be able to hold himself long enough for either of them to get off, no matter _what_ Jones had in mind. But… there was still that infuriatingly _knowing_ look in Jones’ eyes, in the way he was smiling as he watched Barnaby like a hawk.

Pushing the covers aside, Barnaby climbed onto the bed and turned onto his back; then abruptly noticed through his distraction that it felt… different than usual. As he stared up at Jones, who was walking - no, _prowling_ \- towards him, sudden realization robbed him briefly of breath as it dawned like a thunderclap that Jones must have gone ahead and gotten that rubber mattress protector they’d talked about and put it on the bed after they got home.

Jones’ smile broadened as he climbed onto the bed, completely hard and obviously enjoying watching Barnaby finally clue in. The DI pushed Barnaby’s knees open, kneeling upright between his legs and opening the lube he must have taken out at some point. Barnaby hadn’t even noticed.

“I… you -” Barnaby was sweating, his breath coming fast and shallow with an exhilarating mix of arousal, desperation, disbelief and anticipation, and then he moaned, trailing off as Jones slid two slick fingers into his arse and started fucking him with them.

“Mmmm… you’re _so_ good, darling, holding on this long for me… You’re just so _full_ now, aren’t you?” Jones asked, moving up to three fingers.

Barnaby nodded, whimpering and squirming. His body was torn between urgently needing to _go_ and enjoying Jones’ fingers inside him, stretching him open despite his tension making him noticeably tighter than usual.

Then those fingers pulled out, and Jones reached down, quickly slicking his cock and lining himself up. Barnaby whimpered again, hips twitching as he felt the blunt, hot pressure of Jones’ cock at his hole, just pressing him open but not going in.

“I think you still have a little room left for me,” Jones continued, gazing down at him, then finally pushed inside Barnaby in one long, smooth thrust, making Barnaby gasp and shudder. It felt so fucking good, hypersensitized as he was, but it put even more pressure on his already aching bladder. Jones thrust again without warning, pulling almost all the way out and slamming back into him, so hard and deep that Barnaby’s hips came up off the mattress.

Barnaby couldn’t have done anything to stop the spurt of piss that squirted hot and wet over his belly from the sudden jolt, and he let out a wailing sort of sob as his hands fisted uselessly in the sheets beside him.

“Sir… sir, _please!_ I - I can’t…”

A blatant grin of enjoyment on his face now, Jones ran his hands over Barnaby’s open thighs.

“Go on, sweetheart, let it go… I want to see you wet yourself while I’m fucking you.”

With a groan, Barnaby closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. It was… difficult, stuffed full of Jones’ cock like this, even though Jones wasn’t moving inside him at the moment. And even more than that, it was knowing where he was, fighting a lifetime of conditioning to _not_ let go there, _not_ wet the bed.

But Jones was adding to the unbearable pressure inside him, and he had to go so badly by now that it only took a minute or two and some deep breaths before Barnaby felt piss start trickling out of his semi-hard cock and onto his belly. Once it started, he couldn't have stopped it again even if he wanted to, and he opened his eyes again, looking down at himself and gasping because it just felt _so good._

“Oh shit, that’s hot,” Jones breathed as Barnaby started pissing up over himself, first all over his stomach and then up to his chest as he finally let go completely, his cock actually lifting slightly up off his belly from the force of it.

And then Barnaby thought he just might lose his mind as Jones started moving inside him while he pissed; tentatively at first, then thrusting slow and deep when the movement did absolutely nothing to abate the flood that was now gushing out of him. If anything, it actually pulsed out harder with every thrust.

Barnaby moaned and let his knees fall further open, his eyes glued to the sight of Jones thrusting into him above his own pissing cock. The liquid heat was splashing up Barnaby’s front, pouring down his sides and pooling under his back, rapidly soaking the bedsheet around him as it spread through the fabric. He was lightheaded from pure, sweet release, and from the twin sensations of emptying himself even as Jones filled him up over and over.

“Fucking _hell,_ you really did need to go,” Jones groaned, and Barnaby glanced up briefly. Jones was staring down, mouth open and panting as he took in the same sight, obviously as turned on by it as Barnaby was.

And Barnaby was getting hard, _fast,_ his stream eventually sputtering out as his cock swelled. Jones started fucking him harder, taking his rapidly stiffening prick in hand and stroking him even before he was done so the last dribbles of piss ran down over Jones’ fingers. Barnaby groaned, panting in time with the strokes as Jones pumped his cock faster, the DI’s stomach taut and sheened with sweat as he thrust between Barnaby’s spread legs.

“God, you’re _filthy,_ sweetheart, so hard from pissing yourself, pissing the bed like that,” Jones panted, and Barnaby was already hurtling towards another kind of release, completely overwhelmed by pleasure and the sheer rush of what they’d just done, gasping as Jones’ slicked hand expertly fisted his prick and that hard cock pounded into his arse.

“Just look at the fucking _mess_ you made,” Jones continued, groaning above him. “I’m so fucking close… I want you to come for me if you can… come on love, come all over yourself now too… that’s it, that’s it, fuck - oh yes - take it - I’m coming - I’m -”

Jones shuddered, words dissolving into a loud cry as he slammed himself in one last time. Watching him lose control so quickly sent Barnaby right over the edge with a wail as he felt Jones pumping out inside him with jerky thrusts of his hips. Barnaby shook, body spasming as his cock pulsed in Jones’ grip and emptied itself up over his soaking wet belly. The spurts of hot come mixed in with the slowly cooling piss that still covered him, and Jones was buried to the hilt inside him, hips right up against his arse and still thrusting spastically, breath coming in sharp gasps as he milked the last of Barnaby’s orgasm out over his fingers.

Letting go of Barnaby’s dick but not pulling out, Jones collapsed down onto him with a satisfied groan. As his weight settled onto Barnaby’s stomach though, the DCI felt his bladder spasm under the pressure and then let go again.

Barnaby’s eyes widened with a gasp as piss spilled uncontrollably out of his softening cock where it was sandwiched between them, the hot wetness spreading fast as he pissed on himself all over again, and now on Jones too. He must not have gotten it all out before he got too hard.

“Shit, I’m sorry! I - I couldn’t -”

Jones cut him off with a shivering groan and his dick twitched inside Barnaby's hole. “Oh fuck yes, christ that’s hot… let it all out… _jesus_ …”

Barnaby relaxed with a long, drawn out sigh, and they lay there panting as he just let his bladder empty itself into the already slick mess of come and piss and sweat that was smeared between them. Even after the initial rush abated, it kept flowing out of him for a long time, a slow, steady trickle of heat that squeezed its way out between his stomach and Jones’ to dribble down his sides and onto the already soaked sheet.

By the time it finally, _finally_ petered out completely, Barnaby was limp and shivery from release of all kinds, gloriously empty.

 _“So_ filthy… I fucking love you,” Jones murmured, raising his head and leaning up for a long, deep kiss, and Barnaby positively melted into his mouth.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Work is complete!   
> (Unless I think of more ideas that don't just repeat what's already here, but I probably won't)


End file.
